


The Mercy Seat

by idyll



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-03
Updated: 2007-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idyll/pseuds/idyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's feeling too different, too new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mercy Seat

John wakes up with his back bowed and his cock hard and the feel of a hand on his chest, pushingforcingshoving something familiar and missed back into him. He remembers the sensation: the fierce burn, the intense connection, and the dark, aching and endless hunger he touched for several moments. He remembers and it resonates in him and he pushes himself from his bed and stumbles to the bathroom on shaking legs.

In the mirror above the sink John's reflection is flushed and desperate and disgusted. Below his waist he is throbbing and needful, and he has to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for himself and finishing it in a burst of orgasm.

He goes back into the bedroom and dresses hastily, his teeth clenched so hard that his jaw aches, and then leaves his quarters altogether.

Ronon answers his door fully dressed down to his boots, just like he has every other time that John's had to wake him for some emergency or other.

Tonight it's nothing to do with a mission that's brought him here and Ronon seems to know. He studies John for a moment, then nods and steps into the hall. John follows him to the secondary training room that is used for civilian group training.

Every inch of the floor is covered with padded mats, and two entire walls are mirrored.

John needs the endless reflections that remind him who he is and he wonders if Ronon somehow knew, or if John looks wild enough that Ronon thinks the mats are going to be necessary.

It's probably the latter, because Ronon doesn't hold back and John flies through the air, to the floor, over and over again, far more than he does during a normal session.

John doesn't fall back, doesn't complain, he just takes Ronon's fists, feels bruises and knots rise up in their wake. He lashes out without restraint, feels his bones jar and his muscles cramp.

It goes on and on, until John's seeing triple and swaying on his feet. He's pressed against one mirrored wall, across from another, and Ronon's face draws his attention from his own infinite reflection.

"Sheppard," Ronon growls. His tone pleading and begging, and his fist is suspended mid-air, shaking as hard as he is clenching his jaw, and John can't do this to him anymore, he can't.

"Enough," he says, and the word is hardly out of his mouth before Ronon's scooped him up, and John passes out before they even reach the infirmary.

*

John wakes up stiff and hurting, feeling every one of his years and then some, and there's a horrifying ache in his lower back that he knows from experience means pissing is going to be pure hell for a few days.

Ronon is in the chair next to the bed, and he's understanding even in his fury. "Don't ask me for that again," he says flatly.

John shakes his head, swears that he won't, and reaches out for a hand that Ronon offers freely. "I won't, I swear, thank you," he gasps, over and over, until Ronon folds a hand over his mouth and stops the onslaught of words, and John will thank him for that, too, later.

.End


End file.
